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I used to believe if I could just keep it all together, I’d eventually arrive somewhere that felt like freedom.
Corporate deadlines, emotional labor, busy calendar, big dreams. Add a smile, a glass of red, and a to-do list that never ended, and you had me—high-functioning and completely disconnected from myself.
I didn’t realize how far I’d drifted from myself until everything I was holding together started to fall apart. The burnout wasn’t just exhaustion. It was a full-body rebellion. My system had finally had enough of the constant output, the constant performance.
The unraveling didn’t start with a dramatic exit, it started with a quiet knowing. The first time I left corporate, it was because of a deep discontent I couldn’t name. I packed a backpack and solo-traveled through Europe for a year, thinking I’d find myself on the road. And in many ways, I did.
When I returned, I dipped my toes back into the corporate world through consulting, which felt more freeing. I had more autonomy. But soon I realized I was still jumping through hoops, still chasing someone else’s version of success. So I left again—this time to start my own practice, thinking I’d finally found my rhythm.
Instead, the wheels came off. I applied everything I’d learned, threw in financial pressure, and hit a wall so hard I lost my ability to function. Mornings felt like molasses. My brain couldn’t string two thoughts together. And despite working endlessly, I wasn’t creating anything that felt meaningful. My program went quiet. My community pulled back. There was no joy in anything I was doing anymore and with that I lost creativity. I wasn’t magnetic anymore.
And then the world paused. Everything stopped, including me. That collective stillness cracked something open—and in that quiet, I made one of the most important decisions of my life: I quit drinking.
That’s when I started writing. Without the numbing, I began to feel again. To tune into my body. And that’s what led me deeper into the path I now live and guide others through: body wisdom, rhythm, and reclamation. It led me to coaching. And it brought me back to something deeper than strategy or goals—something my body knew but I had long forgotten. A pace, a pulse, a rhythm that didn’t need to be earned. It reminded me that not everything needs a plan. Sometimes what we need most is space to hear what’s already true inside us.
The Cost of Constant Blooming
We live in a culture obsessed with peak performance. We glorify “busy.” We reward visibility. We chase the next milestone, thinking it will finally give us permission to exhale. But that rhythm—the one that tells us to always be “on”—it’s not human. It’s industrial.
Women are especially susceptible. We’re taught to take care of everyone else first, to prove ourselves at work, to look polished no matter how we feel—and to never let it show when we’re falling apart. But the body knows. Eventually, it sends signals: fatigue, irritability, brain fog, resentment. Mine showed up as burnout, wine to unwind, and that gnawing feeling that even though I was doing everything “right,” it was never enough. I wore high-functioning like a badge, but underneath it all, I was unraveling—and pretending otherwise took everything I had.
The truth is: we are not designed to bloom all year. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.
The Power of Seasons
That turning point came when I discovered cyclical living—not as a trend or tactic, but as a remembering of what I’d always known in my body. I began tracking my menstrual cycle and syncing it with how I planned my days and weeks. I was first introduced to this idea through the work of Kate Northrup and her book Do Less. Her words opened the door to something that felt both radical and deeply familiar. I started asking new questions:
Where am I in my cycle?
What do I need right now?
Where am I pushing when I could be pausing?
Through that process, I re-learned what my body had been trying to tell me for years. Energy is not linear. It’s seasonal. Just like nature.
Spring is when new ideas start to sprout. You feel energized, hopeful, and ready to begin again. Summer brings that outward buzz—it’s when you’re most visible, social, and expressive. It’s your full bloom. Autumn is when discernment kicks in. You get clearer on what needs to stay and what needs to go. It’s a season of boundaries, of refining. And Winter? That’s the deep exhale. The invitation to rest, to listen inward, and to let what’s no longer true fall away.
Each one is necessary. And when we allow ourselves to move with them instead of against them, life gets a whole lot more aligned—and a lot less draining.
Every woman has these inner seasons, whether she menstruates or not. We are wired for rhythm. But we’ve been conditioned to override it.
A Story From My Own Reclamation
I remember a time in the early days of sobriety when I was still hustling. I had just launched my book, Freedom Seeker, and felt the pressure to push on, to promote and perform—to prove the book was worth the time, the energy, the investment it took to write. You see, even creative work has seasons: seeding, growing, harvesting, and resting. My body was in winter. What I needed was stillness. What I gave myself was three weeks and then I was back on the road.
It was like asking a woman who just gave birth to return to work before her body has even begun to heal. The emotional labor was intense, and I skipped right over it—just like so many of us do, because the world rewards output, not integration.
Writing that book cracked me open. And instead of tending to what had shifted inside, I jumped straight back into proving my worth. One morning, I sat at my desk staring at a blinking cursor, exhausted and uninspired. Instead of pushing through like I used to, I closed my laptop and went for a walk. Halfway through the woods, clarity came—not just about the writing, but about how I had been measuring my worth by output for too long.
That walk was the beginning of something. It showed me that when I honor my inner season, life doesn’t stop. It aligns. Insight finds me when I stop chasing it. Creativity comes when I make space for it.
What Happens When We Don’t Listen
We say we want to slow down—but when the opportunity finally comes, it feels terrifying. Who am I without the hustle? What will fall apart if I stop?
When we ignore our rhythms, we lose our relationship with ourselves. We become brittle. We disconnect. We cope in ways that don’t serve us: over-caffeinating, over-scrolling, overworking. We try to fill the void instead of facing it.
For me, that looked like pouring myself into work all day and wine all night. A cycle of proving and numbing. I remember one night, standing in the kitchen with my laptop still open on the counter, glass of wine in hand, heart racing from an inbox I couldn’t keep up with—and suddenly realizing: I don’t even know what I’m working toward anymore.
It wasn’t until I chose sobriety that I could finally hear the deeper need: to slow down and return to my rhythm. That’s when I saw a commercial advertising fast-absorbing moisturizer so you could “get back to your day” faster. As if even self-care had to be optimized. That was the final straw. If even taking a couple of minutes to care for our own skin is seen as a waste of time, what does that say about how fast we’re expected to move through our days, our needs, our lives?
That was my deep winter. A season of undoing. Of staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m. wondering who I was if I wasn’t busy, successful, or needed. I didn’t stop everything—but I did step out of the spotlight. I took a 9-to-5 job to ease the financial pressure and quiet the constant CEO thinking. I picked blueberries in the summer, tended my garden, joined women’s circles, and spent far less time on social media. I started listening inward again. Eventually, the noise began to fade. It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly I began to remember who I was beneath all the performance.
How You Can Begin
Living cyclically doesn’t require an overhaul. It starts with tuning in.
If you’re new to tracking your cycle, it might feel a bit unfamiliar or even awkward at first—and that’s understandable. Most of us were never taught how to work with our rhythm. In fact, we learned to downplay it, dismiss it, or even feel ashamed of it. But with time, tracking becomes second nature—and the insight it offers is worth every moment of attention.
To get started tracking your inner seasons, take the last day of your period and count forward in 7-day phases. While the length of each phase can vary, using a 7-day rhythm is a simple and effective way to tune in. Over time, you’ll begin to notice how your energy shifts, and what supports you in each phase.
Below is a simple breakdown of each inner season, beginning with the one that follows your menstrual phase. These are here to help you get a feel for the energy of each phase and begin to notice how they show up in your own life.
Follicular Phase / Waxing Moon = Spring: time for clarity and initiating
Ovulation / Full Moon = Summer: high energy, confidence, connection
Luteal / Waning Moon = Autumn: emotional truth, boundaries, discernment
Menstruation / New Moon = Winter: rest, reflection, renewal
If you’re in perimenopause or post menopause, look up and follow the rhythm of the moon.
Track your energy daily or weekly. Notice your cravings, your emotions, your focus. Schedule rest like you schedule meetings. I hold off on booking meetings, social events, or anything that requires me to be “on” during my menstrual phase. That time is reserved for slowing down, disconnecting from digital noise, and tending to myself without performance. Move big conversations or launches to your “inner summer” when your clarity and confidence are highest.
Let your body lead.
This is what I guide women through in my 1:1 sessions and in the Friday Huddles—our weekly one-hour planning circles that help you pause, reflect, and align your week with your actual energy, not just your calendar. It’s what we explore in the Wild Woman Collective, a warm, grounded community where we gather around seasonal themes, explore body wisdom, and reconnect with our inner knowing in a way that feels both real and supportive. And it’s why I created the Moon Cycle Flow Guide—a practical, soulful tool to help you sync your energy and plans with your natural rhythm, instead of forcing yourself to fit someone else’s schedule.
The Invitation
You’re not meant to bloom all the time. And if you feel tired, it’s not because you’re doing it wrong—it’s because you’ve been doing too much for too long without honoring your rhythm.
But you can come back to it.
If this message speaks to you, and your organization or community is ready to explore a different way forward, I’d love to bring this work into your space. You can invite me to speak or host a workshop that gives women real tools to reconnect with their rhythm, reflect on their patterns, and begin to rebuild from the inside out.
Want to begin your own exploration?
Download the Moon Cycle Flow Guide.
Join us in the Wild Woman Collective for seasonal support and sisterhood.
If your organization or circle needs this message, I’d love to bring it to you. Book a conversation HERE.
You were never meant to bloom all year.
Your body knows how to move through seasons.
Let’s return to that truth, together.
This isn’t a self-improvement project. It’s a homecoming.
Prefer to listen instead of read?
I recorded this piece as a podcast episode so you can take it with you on your walk, drive, or cozy tea break. Let it wash over you like a remembering.